


look to the stars.

by lionlannister



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: but like fuck tlj, one day i'll just straight up rewrite the movie or something, this is post tlj, yavn iv is also virtually a character in my mind tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 11:56:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16786489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionlannister/pseuds/lionlannister
Summary: As a young boy he’d looked up to the stars and known beyond a doubt that one day he would belong among them. That he would be their soldier. The soldier of everyone that needed him. That he would lead something. And now he was. Leading a broken army. But he would die before he stopped fighting.





	look to the stars.

It’s late. Late enough that those that can sleep are sleeping and those that can’t are pretending they can. Except Poe, who hasn’t slept since they landed on Yavin IV. Instead at night he crawls out of his bed and walks the short distance to his mother’s grave. Waiting there for the sun to rise or for inspiration to strike. Or for them to be attacked. He doesn’t know which seems more likely some days. But he comes here when he can, to talk to his mom, to be alone, to think instead of being in constant motion. When he’s around the others, the survivors, he does not have the luxury of his doubts or fears. They need him to be strong, to be their leader, and he will be because it’s what he was always supposed to be. What he has always wanted to be. There’s some part of him that revels in it still, despite the horrors that brought them here, because he feels like he has finally reached the potential that has been chasing him his entire life.

As a young boy he’d looked up to the stars and known beyond a doubt that one day he would belong among them. That he would be their soldier. The soldier of everyone that needed him. That he would lead something. And now he was. Leading a broken army. But he would die before he stopped fighting.

That does not mean he knows what to do, it just means he knows that he’s got to keep moving.

“You’ve got to sleep sometime, mijo.” He had felt his father approaching before he spoke, felt the steadying presence that wafted around Kes. So he had not started at his voice or the sound of him sitting down beside him. “You’re mother will understand.” He says it with a smile, trying to get a laugh out of him.

He doesn’t succeed but Poe doubted he really thought it would work, his dad knew him far too well to think he would but he appreciated the attempt. Instead of laughing Poe let himself lean to the side, his head coming to rest on Kes’s shoulder and Kes’s hand went into the curls at the back of his head. They’d gotten longer since they’d landed on the Falcon at his father’s doorstep and asked for sanctuary to recover and rebuild. Of course he’d said yes. This man that had been willing to die for the Rebellion and would give his son anything? There had never been the thought they would be denied. 

Which makes Poe feel more guilty.

Kes had given up so much, lost so much, trying to defeat the Empire and now he was in the path of another war when he should get to spend his retirement at peace on their family ranch. But he had welcomed them with open arms and given them everything they needed including holding Poe when he thought he couldn’t keep standing. He needed his dad now, felt weak for needing him, but let himself leaning on him nonetheless. Better a moment of weakness than letting everyone still alive down.

Poe let the silence build between them, not worrying that his dad will take offense to it. They used to go camping when he was a child, those were the times he had learned what it meant to be silent. As a boy Poe had been exuberant, energetic, and almost impossible to contain. Which meant that he had, more than once, tired out his long suffering and oh so loving parents. But they’d learned that he could run and climb himself to exhaustion in the trees of the jungle around their home. So Kes had taught him to survive in those conditions, teaching him everything he had learned as a Pathfinder. Including how to be silent and still when he needed to be. Those lessons had come in handy more and more often recently. “We got word from my,” a pause as he tries to figure out how he fits into Black Squadron now, “from Black Squadron, they got out in time and they’re on their way here.” It’s good news and he should be exscatic. He is. Those are his closest friends. But what about all the others that they haven’t heard from? The ones he watched be blown out of the sky? Helpless to do anything for them because Leia had refused to listen to him, because Holdo had refused to let him help.

Kes nodded, and squeezed him tighter for a moment. “I’m glad, they’ll be a great help for you.” Thankfully his father seemed to understand that he could not let himself be happy about their return yet, the guilt was far too strong. “Poe, look at me.” 

There’s command in his voice. Poe obeys. His father is his hero, both of his parents are more than anyone else in the galaxy, so he knows that whatever he’s about to say will be important. In the was Kes Dameron was to be feared. To be respected. But Poe had never seen his father as anything less than kind and selfless. So he looks to him now with his eyes wide, desperate for some instruction.

“You have to rest, hear me and know I’m speaking as your father but also as a soldier.” Poe nods, letting him know that he has his full attention. Wind blows in from the trees, carrying the scent of his home, his childhood in the trees, and Poe listens to his father speak. “You will burn yourself out before you win this war and I will hear nothing about how you’re willing to die for this cause, mijo, not a word about that. You will not die, you will win. But you have to take care of yourself too.” 

Poe wants to argue, starts to open his mouth to say something about how he can’t rest when so many people are still missing, when there’s so much work to do but he closes his lips at the look in Kes’s eyes. “Mijo, you will work yourself into a grave if you keep this up, you will be buried here beside your mother and then where will we be? The Resistance? Leia? Me? To win you must also be able to keep fighting. That means sleeping, eating, letting yourself breathe.” 

He’s right. Knows he’s right. Knows that Poe knows he’s right which really just makes it so much worse. Poe can’t argue with him now like he had so often in his younger years, he’d once been told by this man that arguing with him was like arguing with the stars. Bright and vibrant and impossible to change. Stubborn. That would be the word. But only when he knew he was right, or at least believed it firmly. Besides, it was his parents that had taught him to trust his gut so they had no one to blame but themselves. “How? How can I rest when all of this is happening? I...papa, I don’t know how to close my eyes and not see those transports blowing up. It isn-isn’t even my own torture that I have nightmares about anymore, not every night at least, it’s everyone else dying because I wasn’t fast enough, smart enough. Because I wasn’t enough.”  
They both pause at that. It’s the first time Poe has mentioned his torture to his dad. Not because he was refusing to acknowledge it happened but because he didn’t know how to think about it right now. He still flinched when shadows moved. Still felt fingers digging into his brain. But now he had more to be afraid of at night. The torture. The deaths. The weight on his shoulders. All of it drags at him now. Kes nods, pressing a kiss to his son’s temple. “I know, I know it’s hard but I need you to trust me, and the general who I know has told you the same things.” She had. Poe hadn’t been able to listen to her either. 

Rubbing a hand across his eyes Poe turned his face back towards the sky. The stars. The things he had always loved most in the world. “I just don’t want anyone else to die.” That sounds so naive coming from a man who has seen war as closely as he has but he still says it. 

“They will, that’s what war is. Dying and killing and fighting because you know in your heart that you’re right, that you’re doing the right thing.” That’s another thing he appreciates about his dad in these moments. He doesn’t pretend that war is honorable but he also doesn’t act like he should be afraid of killing. The Resistance is right, the things they stand for are good, but that means killing people. So be it. They’ll save who they can. Kill who needs to be killed and deal with that when they have a chance to breathe. “But the other soldiers have made the same choice you did, to fight for the things they believe in. Don’t take their choice away from them, respect what they’re doing and do what you can to protect them. But they knew the risks. Just like your mother and I did. Just like you did.” 

The others. That’s all he thinks about most days. Keeping them alive. Getting them supplies. Recruiting new people. Finding them a new base. But he hadn’t thought of it that way before. That they were all here, just like he was, because they had made this choice. No one would force them to stay, Poe himself had made it clear that anyone who didn’t want to stay didn’t need to. They had all chosen to stay. And more people were coming every day. 

So his shoulders straightened out. “You’re right, I now that, they need me to be a leader not...not a martyr.” Kes nodded at that, standing up from the hill his wife was buried in and held out a hand to help his son up. “Get some sleep, eat in the morning, and then go to work. I’ll be beside you, so will everyone else here. They look to you for leadership but you are not holding this all alone.”


End file.
